Mondays
by Bandita-Dieci
Summary: A trilogy of drabbles following the relationship of Jessica Rabbit, a secretary, with her employer, Regina Mills.
1. Something You Can't Replace

_Author's Note:_  
Suppose that Regina Mills is a lawyer.  
Suppose, further, that a genie turned Jessica and Roger Rabbit into real beings - Jessica into a human and Roger into a rabbit.  
Suppose that Roger died and Jessica...didn't.  
Suppose that Jessica became Regina's secretary.

These would take place in that world.

Kudos to regalxlegality over on tumblr for allowing me the use of her wonderful Regina and to ican-giveyoustars over on tumblr for the use of her fantastic Roger.

* * *

The building is quiet.

Every now and again, Jessica allows herself to work long into the night – mostly on nights her memories blaze white hot, nights his scent colors her thinning scarf, nights when being home means being home without him and being unable to think of anything other than that so she sits and works because maybe that'll be an adequate distraction and if not, she'll at least be exhausted when she leaves. More than once those late night job requests find her here, not her apartment, but she doubts that's too noticeable.

On those nights, the building _might_ be considered silent – it _isn't_; the click-clacking of her fingernails on the keyboard attests to that – but those moments are a far cry from this one.

Too many people in the lobby, chatting in the lounge–-

She continues her work to corral them behind the scenes. Poison and bleach may be fun in short quantities, but it only works on people like _Claude_. Her strategy cannot – _is not_ – based solely on that. At some point, she may even need to speak with them outside of work.

(It's less likely, but still worth a shot. She will never be the friend they want, and such an outing will only prove that. On the other hand, the separation will make them listen. Give peasants a common enemy, and even the weakest will pull together to defeat her. Sometimes with kindness.)

—until one of her coworkers – Bartholomew, the one who wants to be Barty but she always uses his full name both to annoy him and to remind him that he's _not as young as he thinks he is_ – finally recognizes the time. His eyes widen, not so either of his 'friends' notices, and he drags them away to the lounge. Others follow his lead – not so much hiding in the lounge or their cubicle as simply giving the needed room.

Funny how fully grown adults avoid the appearance of a ten year old.

(They will talk to him later, maybe, if he is perhaps not so zealously protected, if he wanders over to see them, if _he_ chooses _them_ – because otherwise they would be interrupting, and there can be no interrupting this sacred time.)

Jessica's fingertips rest on the keyboard, eyes focused on the computer screen in front of her. She alone can stay in this most revered of moments – due to the nature of her job, she has nowhere to hide – and although others might be excited or happy to see the boy, she can't help but wish she were anywhere else. Her gaze flickers from the elevator doors to the time and back again. Any moment now the steadily growing quiet will be interrupted by a young being who—

The elevator bell dings at his approach, and Jessica closes her eyes. She doesn't need to see it; she can imagine the boy child rushing down the hallway, feet pounding the tile floor, red backpack swinging loose on his shoulders, smile bright on his face – that's the way it is, the way it _should _be, the way it often is when he isn't preoccupied by whatever slows his steps and steals his spirits away. But today is like the best days – the thunderous feet, the high-pitched voice crying out—

"Mom!"

And it is only at the sound of his voice that his mother appears. To wait any closer might be to appear too overeager, too desperate, too _clinging_ – although Jessica would **never **call it that, not without fear of some sort of retribution – so she lingers behind, gives the illusion of freedom, and waits for him to choose her— and he always does, even on the most broken of days, racing down the hallway to meet her.

Jessica doesn't need to see it because it happens every week – the son yelling for his mother, and she stepping out of her office with barely concealed joy, her emotions so achingly bright yellow that she cannot help but be sick from remembrance as his mother, her employer, swoops down, picks her son up, and spins with him in a way she will not be able to do much longer so she will do it **now** and take advantage of every opportunity that will, one day, be lost to her. Every Monday, their actions are the same, and no matter the color or images set before that moment, they all revert to yellow – bright, blinding, overwhelming – flooding every sense with memories that she longs to relive and aches to forget, memories of a husband she will never see again, and, every now and again, the image of him in this space, the way he was meant to be— interacting with a child and bringing all around him to laughter.

She cannot mimic it, so she does not even try, lost in visions of what has been lost.


	2. Still Lingers Here

Jessica didn't know exactly when she fell asleep, the transition from one state of being to another as seamless as a Toon's clothes, but she knew for a fact she was now dreaming with her eyes wide open. How else could she explain the long dead Rabbit standing just behind her desk, the yellow shade so closely associated with him suffocating her?

_This is not good._

One furry paw touched her fragile human flesh – thick, tarnished, and wet, but not quite – fur soaked with paint so thick she was surprised it didn't leave a white paw print on her scarred skin. The no-longer Toon woman blinked twice, as though doing so would wake her up, yet nothing changed. Her fingers interlaced each other in her lap, thumbs pressed tight together and nails digging into her skin. Pain – not intense, not sharp as a pinch – but enough to prove that she was not, in fact, asleep.

_Hallucinating, then._

That was just as bad.

Jessica brushed one hand through her hair – not as red as it once was, faded by years of humanity with more white than she cared to admit – and tried to focus on the papers in front of her. Filing was not a particularly hard task; it was something she did on a daily basis – a habit, more than anything, to keep everything organized. She forced herself to stand, ignoring the paw as it fell away, and gather the day's papers, albeit earlier than normal, because at least in the file room she would be alone with herself and...whatever this apparition turned out to be.

But as she moved to leave her desk, the elevator dinged and she remembered with increasing horror that today was _Monday_. For the first time in a long time, Jessica could feel herself growing short of breath as she glanced to the time.

_No._

_ Not now._

_**NOT NOW.**_

But Jessica didn't have the ability to stop time, as some might. She couldn't change the date, and most of all, she couldn't stop the boy – older now than when she started her job here, but not by much – walking briskly through the elevator doors, head down, hands shoved into his jeans pockets, backpack strapped tight against him. A deep breath – willing the boy to say nothing, to keep him from calling out to the woman just yards away, because even if _Jessica _believed she was hallucinating, there was always the smallest possibility that _she wasn't_ – and for once in her life, it seemed she would get her way. Instead of yelling for his mother as he often did, the young boy heaved a heavy sigh and stopped just short of her office, slumping down into one of the plush chairs next to Jessica's desk.

Jessica still hadn't moved, now debating whether to speak to the boy or continue with her work.

_I'm not Roger_, she thought, inwardly cringing at the name. _I can't help him._

So she chose not to say anything, gathering the files in one hand, clasping them against her chest, and heading towards the file room. Then the hint of white Toon fur crossed the corner of her sight, the hallucination walking over to the boy with a bright, entertaining smile on his face. Jessica's eyes widened and without hesitation, she grabbed one of the straps of his red overalls, pulling the white Rabbit backwards.

The hallucination turned his head back to look at her, blue eyes wide and sad at the same time, a confused frown on his face.

She would not call him by name – would not give this fictional representation of the hollowness of her mind any connection to the real – _dead _– being it was impersonating – but she spoke to him, words hissing through gritted teeth. "Not. Right. Now."

It opened its mouth to say something, whiskers twitching about its pale pink nose, but she clamped its mouth shut with one hand. Her eyes met its, trying to be fierce as she always was these days, but it was hard to see him and keep her usual demeanor. "You stay with me and leave the kid alone."

Its ears curved into a heart shape, a goofy smile appearing on its lips as she removed her hand. 'Stay with you? Of course I'll stay with you! Wherever you go, my lovecup! To the ends of the earth, to the moon, to _death_!"

Even more proof he wasn't real. Her mind could never get his cadence right.

Jessica turned away from him, ignoring the sound of the hallucination's hopping walk behind her, and held her papers even tighter against her. This was getting out of hand. If not for the pain, she'd be convinced she was dreaming. It would certainly make this a lot easier.

But when was her life ever easy?

As she reached Regina's office, however, Jessica was stopped by the color leaking out from beneath the door – brightening red bent with hints of another color hidden just behind it – one she knew she could identify if the blood red wasn't so overpowering. There was no yellow as there usually was on Mondays, not yet, not quite – there were glimpses of orange, but—

"Miss Rabbit, is there a particular reason why you're lurking outside my door, or have you forgotten yourself?"

Jessica stepped forward and turned to face the office proper, eyes focusing on her employer. "No, Ms. Mills. No reason at all."

A bright flash of red tainted with groping tendrils of black filled her mind, and Jessica tightened her grip on her papers once again, crinkling them slightly. There were too many memories associated with that combination of colors – too much pain – that even as they faded away she couldn't help but force herself to breathe. Still, that third color passed by as Regina's gaze drifted away, not that it was ever on Jessica to begin with, concentrated solely on the accounts on her desk. "Then by all means, continue standing there. I'm sure you won't be in anybody's way."

Jessica paused until she felt a flash of orange followed by the slightest tinge of buttermilk, at which point she couldn't help but say, "He's already here, Ms. Mills."

Regina's eyes flickered to her, and the color – the one Jessica knew but couldn't name – flashed briefly before being overcome with buttermilk. "Where?"

"Sitting in one of the seats near my desk." Jessica lowered her head a little bit before propping the door open and taking a step inside of the office. "Would you like me to send him in?"

_As if that would fix things._

Regina didn't honor that question with an answer, and as she gave her secretary a look that held all the intensity of a glare without actually having to be one, the colors swirling around her **flickered** once more.

_Now – now she could see the color, now she could feel it pulsing through everything, painting flowers in the black and dancing with the red, merging with the buttermilk and hiding and laughing all the same—_

_Champagne, the taste of Dip like bleach on her lips._

The hallucination peeked around her legs, its ears flattening against its back as it clung to her, one paw grabbing onto her hand. "Jessy, let's get out of here."

It was perhaps a testament to Jessica's self-control that she didn't move at its touch, didn't wince at the sound of his voice, but remained there a moment longer, knowing she wouldn't get an answer and yet waiting all the same. She lingered a moment – this was not the time to say anything further, she knew that – but—

"Ms. Mills?"

"If you have something that needs doing, I suggest you do it, Miss Rabbit." Her eyes were on the accounts in front of her once more, accounts she'd already completed, and a wave of the softest lavender, pure in its shade, dripped from her skin like honey from a hive.

"Yes, Ms. Mills." Jessica nodded and took a step back, but before she could turn away—

"Please shut the door on your way out."

This time Jessica didn't even answer, her long fingers tearing out of the hallucination's grasp and gripping the door instead, shutting it with a soft click. She turned and headed towards the file room again, but a paw grabbed the edge of her skirt, pulling her backwards. When she continued forward, the paw dropped away. The hallucination hopped in front of her and turned, walking backwards with its arms splayed out. "Jeepers, that lady was intimidating!"

Jessica didn't say anything. Hopefully if she ignored it, then it would go away. The hallucination glanced around her once more, a puzzled expression on his face. She passed it as she entered the file room, but as she began to put the files in their different cabinets – _Claude used to do this, but he never could do it __**right**_ – the hallucination began to tap its foot against the carpet. It placed one hand on its chin and seemed to be staring intently down the hall at—

"I thought I told you to leave him _alone_," Jessica hissed.

The hallucination turned to her with a look that was so completely _Roger_ that she couldn't say anything else. He didn't have to say anything – she knew the look well, knew that he was going to do anything he could to make the boy laugh, to cheer him up, because _sometimes laughter is the only weapon we have _and she'd grown so used to being the knife but never being cut. Without a word, the white Rabbit bounded down the hall and, although it took a moment, Jessica groaned and followed, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

_How are you going to help him when he can't even __**see **__you?_

But there he was – the invisible Rabbit – trying to talk to Regina's son. When he saw Jessica nearby, he flashed her a bright smile and a thumbs up, but it was obvious the boy couldn't hear one word he said. She sighed and walked forward, kneeling down through the ghost of her husband to face the boy. "Henry—"

"What do _you_ want?" Henry didn't even look at her, his neck tilted against the back of the chair and his eyes towards the ceiling. "You don't even like me."

The hallucination shook his head rapidly. "Of course she likes you! Jessica _loves_ kids!"

She gave the Rabbit a short glare then turned back to the kid. "You're right, kid. I _don't_ like you. Happy now?"

"No."

"Well, then that makes two of us."

There was silence for a moment, and the Toon Rabbit took that moment to elbow Jessica in the side. "You're doing great! Keep it up! He'll be laughing in no time!"

Jessica sat down on the ground and leaned against the side of her desk, suddenly grateful that today she'd decided on pants instead of a skirt. She tilted her head back as though to examine the ceiling then glanced to the kid again. "There is absolutely nothing of interest up there."

"I know."

"Then why are you looking?"

"It's none of your business."

This time she just nodded to herself. Now would be a good time to give up this endeavor, count her losses, regroup and try again later...or _never_. There was a soft thwump as the hallucination dropped to the ground beside her, crossing his legs and grabbing his ankles. "You should try a joke!"

"No, I don't think he's in the mood for a joke right now," Jessica said, closing her eyes as though that would make the Rabbit disappear.

"People are _always _in the mood for a good joke!"

"I said no."

"Who're you talking to?" the kid asked, his voice bored and annoyed.

Jessica cracked one eye open. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"That's why I asked. Duh."

She watched the kid as he tilted his head back down to face her, eyes searching her face. Henry had dropped his backpack to the floor a long time ago, and now he shoved it under his seat, crossing one leg underneath him. Then he turned back to her, curious – which, in her opinion, was much better than whatever mood he'd been in before. "So, who are you talking to?"

_Nobody_, she wanted to say, but Jessica knew that was the wrong way to go about this conversation. Shutting off a possible conversation was no way to go about cheering a person up. So, despite never actually wanting to broach this subject with anyone, let alone Henry, she allowed herself to simply say, "A ghost."

"Really?" Henry's eyes shot open and he leaned eagerly against the arm of his chair. "Where is he?"

"Right next to me," Jessica said, one arm indicating the place where the hallucination sat just beside her.

Henry grinned in excitement, but then the smile faded into a pout. "Why can't I see him?"

"Because he doesn't just show himself to anybody."

"But he shows himself to you."

"That's because he likes me."

The boy grimaced and shook his head. "Nah, he's more likely to want to annoy you like I do."

"And you wonder why I don't like you."

This elicited a giggle from the boy, but before Jessica could consider herself a slight success, the giggle stopped, replaced by the frown once more. She didn't know what to say, but after a moment's hesitation, she gathered herself enough to try again. "He has a joke for you."

"Oh?" Henry's eyes lit up again. "What kind of joke?"

"A knock-knock joke."

Henry didn't say anything, but his expression said that he would listen, just to see what the ghost would say.

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Etch," Jessica said, mouth slowly forming the words and ignoring the sudden remembrance.

"Etch who?" Henry's eyebrows furrowed together, and Jessica smiled because that meant he hadn't guessed the answer right away.

She hadn't either, the first time, but after that, it was always her favorite of his jokes.

"God bless you."

Henry's face contorted and he leaned back in his chair. "That's not a very good joke."

"And you've got a better one?"

He scowled. "No."

Jessica's lips curved into a smug grin. "Then it's the best one we have, isn't it?"

"I guess." Henry crossed his arms across his chest.

It was at this moment that Jessica turned to the hallucination as though to see how it would respond – whether it remembered the joke, whether he would smile, whether the fact that she actually succeeded at telling a joke would make him happy – only to find that it was gone. Her eyes flickered up and down once, and she blinked as though that would bring him back. Still, nothing. She turned back to the boy, who still had his arms crossed and the scowl on his face, and, because she believed Roger expected it of her, asked, "Why are you out here?"

"I failed my math test."

There was no hesitation this time, just the sad sort of sigh as his body collapsed in on itself. "She's going to get mad at me. We went over this stuff like a bajillion times, and I thought I got it, and..." He shook his head. "I just suck at math."

Jessica nodded once. "Math can be really hard." She glanced down at his backpack, shoved under the chair, and realized that he probably had the test hidden in there. "What was the test over?"

"Mixed fractions."

"Ah."

"They're hard."

Jessica shrugged. "Not really." She turned to face the boy fully and gave him a calm smile. "I actually majored in math, if you can believe it. I could give you a few pointers."

Henry's eyes grew wide again. "But you _hate_ me."

"No, I don't like you. I never said I _hated_ you." Jessica stood, wiping imaginary dust off of her pants, and let out a sigh. Her lips pressed together firmly as she thought, and for once in his life, it looked like Henry didn't have anything else to say. "Now go see your mom."

"But she'll be so—"

Jessica gave the boy a stare – one that Eleanor taught her a long time ago, before she and Roger were married, when her owner trusted her to watch over her baby girl. Henry withered for a moment then nodded, picking up his backpack and rushing down the hallway. Within seconds, the hallway flooded with bright yellow – it stained the halls, the carpet, and washed over Jessica's thin form.

And, for once, she didn't feel like she was going to die.


	3. All That's Left Of Yesterday

At some point in time, Jessica grew accustomed to the hallucination's appearance. It was not always around, but every now and again a white Rabbit would dance just outside of her vision like the tail of a kite torn away by the wind, beckoning to the edges of her sanity. Sometimes it wasn't even a Toon – once in a long while it would be the rabbit that for nine long years haunted her days, trailed by a little honey-colored bunny who took great care in nuzzling against him.

Perhaps it was a side-effect of drinking bleach, although the most she'd ever seen that do was cause people to become violently ill, even herself, at first, before her human body acclimated itself to the taste. Then again, it could be years and years of living catching up to her; she'd just passed sixty before the change, and now she was just past three-quarters of a century, old enough that by all accounts she shouldn't be working in a body this young, one that perpetually aged but not quick enough for her liking. Keeping all of the years straight while masquerading as something other than she was – it would take a toll on anybody.

But Jessica Rabbit was never one to let those tolls change her performance.

Truth be told, the hallucination seemed to elevate her efficiency to unknown levels – a mark of her desperation to avoid appearing less than completely sane when she could see a pair of rabbits bounding down the hall just in front of her coworkers' feet.

_ She never reached for them,__  
__ not even when leather-bound__  
__ soles stepped on fluffy tails,__  
__ long floppy ears, or through__  
__ two entire bodies hopping__  
__ along contentedly, heads__  
__ smashed beneath iron feet— _

_ not even the first time, when__  
__ she was unsure whether they__  
__ were real or not – because who__  
__ knew, perhaps one of her oblivious__  
__ coworkers brought along a child__  
__ who insisted on bringing their__  
__ pet bunny rabbits with them, (Hah!__  
__ That employee would be fired on__  
__ the spot! They couldn't have pets_  
_ running around here) and maybe__  
__ they'd escaped from their cage__  
__ somehow and a little girl would be__  
__ heartbroken over the loss of her two__  
__ pets (she shouldn't have brought them__  
__ here, the idiot) – or maybe, even worse,__  
__ they'd escaped from a pet shop and__  
__ figured out how to get on an elevator__  
__ and ride up to this floor, and really__  
__ she couldn't have flinched, couldn't__  
__ move because she needed to prove,__  
__ more to herself than to anyone else,__  
__ that she really wasn't going completely__  
_**_insane_**

Yet on the quietest of nights when she had to retrain herself how to breathe past the fading remembrances of a happier time, the image of the white Rabbit alleviated her panic. Although in most cases his appearance was nothing more than an annoyance, in those moments he was only a _comfort_. And one night, cuddled in the warmth of the being she'd never stopped calling _hers_, Jessica came to an agreement.

_ You can exist_, she thought, nuzzling his soft fur.  
_** I give up.**_

And that was how today, a Monday, Jessica sat at her desk with a white Rabbit perched just behind her, leaning against her chair and whispering into her ear. She smiled but did not laugh – that was one reminder that the being beside her was a simple illusion, as he was never able to get even a chuckle from her lips – and as the hallway emptied of people as the time for the boy's approach neared, and as yet the elevator had not approached, and as in this moment they appeared to be completely alone, she had the greatest urge to lean back and kiss the Rabbit, to force herself into believing that it was real while every moment continued to prove that it wasn't and never could be. Instead, she gripped its paw, giving the wet fur a light squeeze.

After all, it wouldn't do for the lawyer's secretary to be seen french-kissing _air_.

Within moments, the elevator doors opened, their bell ending the silence, and a boy on the cusp of being a teenager walked through, one hand holding onto a strap of his black backpack, his knuckles white. It struck Jessica how much he had grown since she first started working here - not just in height but in simple mannerisms. No longer was he a child who stampeded down the hallway like a baby elephant, trumpeting for a mother whose love he still did not understand. In his place was this boy, one learning what it meant to grow up, each of his steps forward sure, steady, measured, and someday, she knew, he would blossom into something _better_ than those bastards who dared to call themselves men.

Henry paused as he approached Jessica's desk, and shuffled his feet a couple of times. The white Rabbit bent forward, whiskers twitching as a honey-colored rabbit hopped down the hallway. The other rabbit turned to blink at him then continued on its way completely alone. Jessica untangled her hand from the Rabbit's and leaned forward, templing her fingers on the edge of her desk, her gaze meeting Henry's. "Did you get your results?"

"Yes," he breathed, voice deeper than she remembered it being only a week before. Henry's head lowered, and now _both_ hands held tight to the same strap of his backpack, a frown on his face. "It wasn't what I'd hoped."

"Let me see it."

The walls shifted to a pale laurel green around her as the Rabbit covered his mouth with both hands. Not a second passed before he began chewing on the edges of his gloved fingers, Toon fingernails flying everywhere. Not noticing any of this, Henry switched his backpack to his other shoulder and rummaged through the main pocket until he pulled two stapled papers out of a single red folder. He glanced at the first page, winced, and then handed it over. "Here."

Jessica accepted his test and put on her glasses - more often than not she wore contacts now, but every now and then she wanted this firm reminder of her past. The Rabbit leaned forward, his gaze following Jessica's as they skimmed the first page, landing finally on a firm, bright red letter "A". He let out a whoop, jumping for joy, but Jessica just smiled, letting her glasses slip along the bridge of her nose. "Good job."

"Thanks." Henry's lips curved into a soft smile as he relaxed, leaning on the weight of his back foot. "You thought I failed, didn't you?"

Jessica's eyes widened, and her lips pursed. "I don't know about that," she said, the hint of a laugh tucked in the back of her throat. She handed the test back to the boy. "Your mom will be really proud of you."

At her words, a blush spread across Henry's cheeks. "You really think so?"

"Why don't you ask her and see?"

The boy gave a sharp nod, snatched the hand from her hand, and headed the last few yards to his mother's office. Jessica leaned back into her chair before turning to watch the two of them.

Perhaps there were years when she could not abide the bright flash of yellow taking place, his mother's joy painting the walls in Roger's color; perhaps even when she grew used to that, she was unable to watch the two together, pangs of her own losses never quite able to disappear; and perhaps even now she was lost, allowing herself to pretend that a figment of her imagination was something akin to the husband she once knew - but none of that really mattered. Jessica watched as the lawyer hugged her son, holding him tightly against her - no longer able to pick him up and spin with him, the years having aged the both of them too much for that - and this time-

This time a paw touched her shoulder gently, and this time she didn't need to look up to know that the Rabbit with her wasn't an illusion but her Roger, and this time she half-nuzzled against him, feeling more than seeing the smile of joy on his face, one she mirrored as they watched the two.

"They're family, aren't they?"

After a moment's consideration, she gave a faint nod. "Yes, Roger, they are."

Before she could ask him to stay longer, the illusion became simply that - an illusion - the wet feeling on her shoulder the only indicator he had been there at all. She sighed and returned to her work, half-hoping that she would see him again and yet knowing that she never would.

Later that night, as she went to pour her drink, she forewent the traces of bleach, choosing instead to empty what was left of it down her kitchen sink, and sat cross-legged on her couch, waiting for something she could not name. But her patience was not rewarded with a knock, nor with a phone call, but with the buzz of a text message just as she was preparing to sleep. She glanced at the words gleaming across the screen, read them through once - twice, and could not help but laugh.


End file.
